


Powerless

by larrylovesthebooteh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bit of Fluff, Crying, M/M, Sad with happy ending, Sad!Louis, Sorta breakup, but please read it, idk what this is, larry stylinson - Freeform, seriously no point to this sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrylovesthebooteh/pseuds/larrylovesthebooteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Louis' an idiot and Harry leaves him. Angst, some crying, and plenty of alcohol consumption ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powerless

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii sorry this is really rough around the edges. It only took me like two days to complete it and i'm too lazy to edit it so please forgive me for any mistakes! Harry and Louis are present day age and it's an au so one direction doesn't exist. Didn't include the other boys other than Zayn because I wanted it to be short and sweet, even though it's not as short as I wanted it to be. Anyways, please enjoy and comment, it means a lot! xx  
> ~Sydney

~Louis’ POV~

The instant I woke up this morning, like so many others, my head began to throb as if a thousand nails were being drilled into my skull at once. I cringed into my pillow, a pitiful moan leaving my lips at the sheer pain it took just to _breath._ I knew it was all my fault that everything was the way it was right now. _My_ fault I couldn’t open my eyes right now. _My_ fault the bitter taste of liquor still lingered in my mouth. _My_ fault I chased away the most important person in my entire life. But I still couldn’t bring myself to break out of this tortuous rut that had me literally wasting away by the minute.

It was utterly pathetic, the way I was living right now, and I knew very well it was doing quite hazardous things to my health. But again, I couldn’t bring myself to care in the slightest. I lay curled on my unmade bed, a place I hadn’t left other than to get more alcohol and take a piss. The only thing I’d consumed in the past three weeks was a bottle of vodka, water, and a couple of crackers I’d forced down after two weeks. And the only thing I’d done was sleep, drink, and cry until my eyes were raw and I couldn’t cry anymore.

Despite all this, the pain had yet to lessen even a little bit, and it had started to feel as if my heart were slowly tearing itself in two. No, more than two. More like every passing day it was being shredded until all that was left was a few mangled pieces. And I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

I peeled my sore eyes open to squint at the pale blue wall across my room, grimacing further at the pain it brought. I felt nothing but the searing pain in my head, all willingness to do anything at all having left three weeks ago and leaving me feeling utterly empty inside. The only thing on my mind right now was getting a few pain killers and chugging water until this headache faded away like practically every day of this hell.

I weakly shoved the thin comforter covering my body to the side, shuffling slowly until I was in a sitting position, bending over tiredly. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to possibly wake them up a bit, but it was no use. I might as well be a zombie.

I finally stood up after a few minutes, slumping out of my mess of a room and stumbling into the bathroom. The bottle of potent painkillers I rarely used before these three weeks was right where I left them, tossed carelessly beside the sink. I twisted the lid off the top and shook out two white pills, downing them with a glass of water. I threw them back onto the counter, staring deeply into the reflection of what remained of myself.

My hair was an utter greasy mess, having not showered or fixing it for a week. My cheeks were rough with dark stubble that again hadn’t been cared for in over a week. My cheek bones were now much more defined than they should be without any nutrients in my body at all. My eyes were bloodshot, red tear stains rubbed down my face to match. The irises, once a bright, sea green, were now almost a dull grey, lacking any of the life they used to contain whatsoever. Looking in the mirror now, I was surprised with just how _terrible_ I looked. I guess it was one thing knowing what you were doing to yourself and another actually seeing it. It made me feel a whole lot worse knowing it didn’t have to be this way.

About three weeks ago, I found a motorcycle in our garage that I’d never seen before. At first, it confused me because neither Harry nor Zayn had ever mentioned even liking motorcycles. But then I remembered Harry’s stuttered words and obvious discomfort about a week before, and I knew now exactly what he had been lying about. I was so pissed off at him that I stormed right into the kitchen where he was cooking and glared at him. The poor boy looked so confused it caused me physical pain to think about now.

But I raged on, accusing him of lying to me and calling him an idiot for buying such a dangerous, expensive thing. As soon as he caught on, he was glaring right back, saying I had no right to get mad at him for buying it because it was his money, his life, and I wasn’t in control of that. He was absolutely right. I had _no_ authority over him at all and he had every right to buy whatever he wanted. But I still got even angrier that he thought that. I was his boyfriend, I was just trying to care for him and protect him from something that could easily hurt the clumsy, fumbling boy. And he also lied to me and I was hurt, but what I did was so uncalled for, so wrong.

When our words became sharper and edgier and beginning to jumble into one big mass of insults, I screamed at him. Told him to run off with his bike and hurt his big, stupid head and see if I care. And then he was silent, mouth gaping, eyes watery. He started to cry just like that and nothing ever hurt me more than to see him cry, but I stood frozen to the spot. I was in shock of what I’d just said and took me a couple minutes to even think outside of my anger. But after those couple minutes of complete silence apart from his heart wrenching cries, he took off, right out the front door. No car keys, no overnight bag, not even a fucking _jacket,_ and he was just gone. Everything came down on me then and I couldn’t have hated myself more than in that moment. I yelled at him, I made him cry, I made him leave all on his own without anything or anyone to help him, and what did I do about that? Nothing. Fucking nothing.

I didn’t chase after him, I didn’t call him. I just stood there, mouth gaping at what I’d just done. It was ten minutes before I could move and when I did, I was out the door and running down the streets, desperately calling his name, pathetically begging everyone I saw if they’d seen him. But I didn’t find him. Even after calling Zayn, he said he had no idea where he’d gone. The worry literally ate away at me that day, and still now. Where is he? Is he okay? _Will he come back?_

When I got home, I was a crying mess, slamming the door and tugging viciously at my messy hair. Nearly all night I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop worrying, and couldn’t stop absolutely _loathing_ myself for what I’d done. Zayn came to check up on me in the morning, after I’d ignored every one of his calls and texts when I’d felt no care to answer them. I just stared at the wall with tears still slowly dribbling from my raw eyes, and that’s how he found me. Guess I’d forgotten to lock the door that night but again, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

He’d rubbed my back and told me I needed to sleep, to stop worrying because Harry was an adult and he could take care of himself, but I lashed out, telling him to shut up and weakly shoving him in an attempt to make him do so. He just sighed and stared at me pitifully as I continued to cry silently. It was only that afternoon that I’d stopped crying and it was only when I’d found our spare bottles of alcohol in the back of the fridge. I drank until I couldn’t see straight and went into some sort of rage for god knows why. I threw the empty beer bottles against the walls, glass shattering and layering the floor with no one to clean it up.

I went to the laundry room and tore through the baskets, throwing my dirty clothes every which way until the whole place was an utter mess. I was a wreck, stumbling around the house and breaking things, throwing things that reminded me of _him._ That is, until I passed out on my bed around seven with a half empty bottle of wine still clasped in my hand.

The first week was the worst by far. When Zayn came in the next day, he shouted at me for wrecking the place and I’d simply cringed further into my pillow and apologized weakly. He told me to get the fuck out of bed and clean the place but I immediately refused. Harry had always done the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking. I couldn’t bear to do them, even if I wanted to, it was too fresh of a reminder. So after a bit more tears, Zayn gave in and cleaned up my mess, sympathetically rubbing my back once more. I felt even worse for treating Zayn like I did that first week. All he did was help me and I just sassed him for it.

The only thing I did that week was lie in bed and cry. Not a moment passed where I didn’t feel absolutely horrible and I couldn’t care about anything else at all. I didn’t bother to shower, get myself any food, or even drink alcohol. I just laid in bed and slept, waking up to cry and then drink water when I’d cried myself dehydrated, and of course take a piss occasionally. Zayn’s pitiful looks were beginning to get to me every time he’d take the time to visit me. We were supposed to be best mates, joking around, having fun, and being anything but serious. But now, Zayn might as well be my mother with how he was trying to take care of me, get me out of bed, and sending me guilty glances he thought I didn’t see. It was torture.

After the first week, nothing changed really, except I decided to listen to Zayn for once. I got up and took a shower, no matter how much I didn’t want to. Harry and I would almost always shower together and it didn’t seem right going in alone anymore. Stepping in sent a chill up my spine at just how lonely I felt, and of course I ended up crying in there as well. But I knew I had to, because I was starting to smell like the old egg salad sandwich Harry made me that had long ago been left in there, forgotten.

I felt the slightest bit better being clean, even though I still felt like the life had been sucked from me. Zayn tried, after that, to get me to eat something, but I’d had enough that day and went back to bed without anything in my stomach once again.

I started to feel progressively worse and worse after that day, and so I started drinking again. It wasn’t a smart idea since I had nothing in my stomach and got drunk even worse even faster. Not to mention the hangovers in the morning were absolutely terrible. My head would hurt so badly I could barely open my eyes and then I would end up vomiting what little I had left into the toilet. Still, it was a distraction from the deeper pain and I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

I got so weak I could barely stand. My ribs were starting to show and the hangovers got worse and worse, even after taking numerous pain killers. I forced myself to eat those few crackers at the end of the second week, desperately trying to feel hungry again. But I didn’t have it in me. The pain was too much, the loneliness of the flat beginning to get to me in ways I hadn’t thought possible.

Again, I was starting to smell putrid, and so I took another shower at Zayn’s request. Just like last time, I almost couldn’t bear the pain of showering alone and it tore me apart again and again. I missed Harry so much I felt my old self slowly, painfully leaving me, and I almost couldn’t take it. But I continued on, barely living, but still moving on.

My ribs were clearly showing by the third week, and it made me feel guilty again. Harry always said he loved the little tummy I had, although maybe it was better I didn’t have to think about that fact anymore. Still, I was so unhealthy and weak, I could only just make it to my bed before I collapsed, panting and crying again because it was all _so painful._ I drank every night of this third week, getting weaker and weaker every day until I couldn’t take it anymore.

That was all I could see ahead of this. I couldn’t see myself getting over this, no way. My _baby_ is gone, left, with no trace of where he went and it was all my fault. I couldn’t live without him much longer, I could feel it. Whether it was because my body got so weak I literally wasted away, or maybe I’d accidently drink too much. Maybe I’d be so drunk I’d down that bottle of pills to escape the pain of it _all._ No, there wasn’t going to be change. Only _pain._

Now, here I stood, crying _again_ because I wanted nothing more than to know my love was _okay._ I knew I deserved to let him leave me, _he_ didn’t deserve me in the least. But not knowing where he was, if he was okay, it was so much worse than not having him. I knew I couldn’t force him to stay with me and if he truly didn’t want me anymore, that would be okay. Well, it wouldn’t, but all I needed was to know if he was safe. I could get over it if he left me. _Or could I._

I wiped my eyes and sniffled, walking from the bathroom and into my room, trying to stop crying as each sob made my head pang painfully. But just as I walked through my door, a hand grasped my shoulder suddenly and I yelped.

“Jesus, Zayn, what the fuck.” I hissed, reaching up to hold my aching head and frantically wiping the tears left on my face. He patted my shoulder gently and whispered an apology.

“What’re you doing here so early?” I mumbled, sitting down on my bed.

“Dunno, just woke up early and wanted to stop by.” He answered gently. I slowly laid down onto my back, eyes slipping closed.

“You need to eat something Louis, I can see your ribs through your _shirt._ This is getting ridiculous.” He begged, sitting down next to me.

“Ridiculous?” I scoffed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s fucking gone Zayn, what am I supposed to do, throw a party?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Zayn sighed. “You shouldn’t be happy, Lou, but you’re literally withering away before my eyes.”

I stayed silent, because I knew he had a point. I didn’t have to be wallowing away in my own misery, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

“At least shower, please. It’ll make you feel better.” He offered. I scrunched up my face in frustration, tugging at my messy hair.

“Fine.” I huffed. I sat up angrily, but much too quickly and I was suddenly overcome with light headedness. Zayn saw me sway slightly and grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

“You alright, Tommo?” he questioned concernedly. I shook off the dizziness and nodded, standing up. I saw him give me yet another one of those piteous glances as I stood, as if I was as fragile as a porcelain doll. But I wasn’t. Maybe I was slowly breaking inside, but I didn’t need pity or guilt. All I needed was my baby back.

I treaded into the bathroom and discarded my clothes swiftly, taking notice to just how prominent my ribs were. So tight against my pale skin, as if I were to move too far to the side they’d pierce the skin. With a sigh, I got into the shower and hastily cleaned myself, eager to get out and go back to bed. I shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping myself in one of the white, fluffy towels that Harry insisted we buy about four months ago. A lump grew in my throat at the memory and I quickly shook off the thoughts before I became a crying mess yet again. I pulled on a plain black t-shirt I’d found lying in my closet, since I couldn’t bear to wear the shirts he’d bought me and even less the ones we used to share.

The shirt was loose on my body and smelled suspiciously similar to Harry, I almost thought it might have been his. But I decided I’d lived with him long enough that practically everything in this house would smell like him and I was so skinny that none of my clothing would fit me like it used to. Maybe it was just for my sanity’s sake that I stuck with that option, but I didn’t care as long as I could believe it.

After taking a much needed wee and brushing my teeth, I emerged from the bathroom refreshed, yet feeling just as horrible as I had felt that very first day he left. No matter what I did, I knew I probably always would. But I put up a weak façade that I was, in fact, feeling a bit better, for Zayn’s sake. I don’t think he believed me though. I would actually hope so, because he was my best mate and all, though I still felt shitty for all I’d put him through these past weeks.

I slumped into my bedroom, ignoring Zayn’s eyes on me as I sat back down on my bed, blinking slowly.

“Louis…” Zayn started, and I heard him get up from the other side of the bed to stand in front of me. I was so tired, as I had constantly been throughout these three hellish weeks, that I merely looked up at him in what probably looked like a scowl, though I didn’t fully mean it to be.

“How about we go out, just you and me? Maybe a little bit of time being social will… help you.” He asked hesitantly. At his words, I suddenly felt awake, alert. My eyes shot up to his face in suspicion.

“What are you talking about?” My eyes narrowed at him. He sighed.

“You need to move on, Louis. You’re going to… to _kill_ yourself doing this, if you didn’t know. Maybe if we went to, like a club, or something, you could-” I suddenly jerked out of my slouched position, standing up to stare at Zayn with outraged eyes.

“A _club_?! That was your plan? You want me to go out to a fucking club and hook up with some stranger to get over the love of my life?” I snarled at him, shoving him back a bit.

“Lou, no! That’s-that’s not what I meant!” he stuttered, staring at me with sad, begging eyes.

“Bullshit.” I growled. “That’s bullshit.”

“I just want you to get better, Louis, you’re both my friends, I don’t want-”

“Wake up, Malik. If this was some stupid, _petty_ break up, you know I wouldn’t be here right now. Everything I’ve done is _my_ fault. _I’m_ the one who fucking chased him away. _I’m_ the one who’s starved myself because I just can’t physically stomach the thought of eating anymore. _I’m_ the one who’s not getting over this _ordeal._ Why? Because I’m a fucking adult, Zayn. I don’t need you to babysit me and pity me, and I definitely don’t need you setting me up with some whore to fuck my brains out!” I shouted at him, utterly furious for a reason other than the one I was screaming at him for, but I didn’t know what it was.

Zayn was pressed up against the far wall, staring down at me with shock and hurt flooding his features. And I knew it the second I stopped yelling that I’d done it again. I hurt the only person left who cared enough to help me through this torture. I was such a fucking idiot. I felt utterly horrified with what I’d done yet again and again I couldn’t bring myself to move. Tears made their way down my cheeks from the stress of it all, the pressure, and the anger that had been weighing down my shoulders until I’d screamed it all onto the person kind enough to care about me. But I felt anything but relieved. I felt like a disgusting, heartless person who didn’t deserve his best mate and even less the person he’d lost in the first place.

All I could feel in this moment was a strong, _strong_ desire to see Harry again. To let him curl up against my chest and tell me I wasn’t a horrible person and that he loved me more than anything. To have him eat bananas until he didn’t feel well and made me rub his soft tummy. To have him back, and _safe_ with me, where he belonged. In all my time without him, I’d never felt such a strong need to see him again, and it made me feel so much worse than I already did.

I couldn’t bear to be in this room, this _house_ any longer, and with tears streaming down my face, I sprinted from my room and down the hall, wrenching the door open with Zayn shouting after me. I didn’t listen to him, I _couldn’t._ I didn’t even care about bringing a jacket or even shoes as I fled the house, running down the snow covered side walk with bare feet and not a care in the world about the burn it brought. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew exactly where I was going. It was the only place I could think freely, forget all my troubles and just simply focus on how in love I was with a clumsy, curly headed boy. It seemed like a bit of a bad idea considering that curly boy _was_ my troubles right now, but just like everything else in this world, I couldn’t care less about that.

I didn’t feel the cold whatsoever as I ran to the nearby park, glad it was completely empty at the moment. I ran and ran past the trees and down the hidden path the two of us had discovered on our first date, until I finally reached it.

The untouched clearing in the middle of practically nowhere. The trees encircled the small bit of space that, in the summer time, would glow the brightest green in the sunlight. But even when the pretty purple flowers were hidden beneath snow, it was still the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on, apart from Harry’s soft, cherubic face. Every once and awhile, we’d come back here, hands entwined, soft, bashful giggles filling the silence, to cuddle, have a picnic, and sometimes just _talk_ like we seemed to be so good at. The fact that we were _so in love_ was absolutely torturous to me now, so much more so than the past three weeks, but at the same time it was like a remedy, the only thing I needed.

My wide, watery eyes glanced almost fearfully towards that _one tree,_ the one that had the power to save me and ruin me all at once. I walked slowly towards it, so slowly it was almost painful, until I was within a foot of the beautiful thing. No more than a year ago it had happened. On another one of our visits, the dorky, adorable boy suggested we carve our initials in one of these goddamn trees. And I’d never heard such a cheesy, idiotic request from him, but of _course_ I went with it because I was so far gone for him, I could’ve shouted butterflies and rainbows at the top of my lungs if he’d want me to do it.

And of fucking course, there it was. A messy heart cut into the rough bark of the tall fir, _HS +LT_ scrawled in the middle with a little arrow through the middle. Nothing pained me more than to see that goddamn heart, because it was so _him_ to do something like that, so _us._ It was such a strong reminder of what was and what is now, it felt like a knife cutting through my chest. It was as if he were actually there, in the tree, the memory was so fresh and strong in my mind.

I sobbed, hot tears still dripping from my eyes and suddenly, I just lost all will within me to stay sane anymore. I pulled back my arm and punched the tree as hard as I possibly could, sobs still leaving my lips.

“FUCK!” I screamed in both pain and utter hatred towards myself. I felt a single drop of blood slip down my knuckle, the pain inside me consuming any pain I would feel in my hand. My brittle body slumped against the tree as I continued to cry and I’d never felt more hopeless than in this moment. But it was then, that I heard it.

“L-Louis?” _His_ fucking voice sounded. The deep, raspy voice that I’d longed to hear for what felt like a lifetime that was rough yet so smooth and utterly soothing. It rang in my ears, fresh and sharp, feeling as if a bit of colour had been splashed onto a black and white canvas. It was simply so relieving that I had a hard time believing it was real and even more so at coping with the shock.

My knees buckled and I fell to the snow covered ground, sobs shaking my body as well as new found tremors at the sudden freezing temperature. I heard a gasp and sudden crunches in the snow that could only be _his_ footsteps when his warmth was abruptly _right there._

“Lou!” he squeaked and wrapped his arms around me and _nothing felt better than having his sweet smell envelop me._

 _“_ Har-Harry.” I choked. I lost all control then, all the past stress, sadness, and emptiness from missing him coming out all at once. Despite having him here with me, I cried harder than I ever had before into his chest. He gasped and pulled me into his lap, obviously surprised. I _never_ cried around him, in fact hardly at all before he left me. I was supposed to be the strong one in our relationship, the rock. Even when I felt like I had to, I never cried around him because I knew it would upset him even more. But I couldn’t stop, I just felt so _weak._

I completely collapsed in his arms, putting what little weight I had on him as I broke down. It was weird, so weird I could just laugh because again, _I_ was always the one who held him, carried him. I was the big spoon and everything, yet here I was cradled in his lap like a baby.

“Oh my god, Louis.” He croaked and pulled me tighter against him. I blubbered incoherently into him.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, sorry!” I sobbed, repeating and repeating those words like my life depended on it. He stroked my hair back, ever so gentle.

“It’s okay, it’s alright, please don’t cry Lou.” Harry almost begged, sounding close to tears himself. I sniffled and let out a shuddering breath across his collarbone.

“Baby, baby you’re _okay._ ” I whispered, voice cracking. He nuzzled his face against mine and my heart clenched at the feeling of tears dripping down his face too.

“Of course I’m okay, but you, _look_ at you!” he gushed, hands running up and down my sides. “You’re-you’re so _skinny,_ what happened?”

“Scared me so much, darling, you ran away without _anything_.” I croaked. “Worried _sick_ about you.”

“Oh, Lou.” He cried. “I’m fine, as fine as I can be without you, but-but-”

“I love you so much.” I whispered, curling closer to him. “Never wanted to yell at you, you’re so precious, I’m so sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry for running.” He whispered back. “I’m so sorry, I was just scared that-that you were mad at me I couldn’t take it.”

“No, _no_ don’t apologize, m’love. It’s my fault, all mine, and I’m so sorry.”

“You were right though, Lou.” He caressed my sallow cheek. “I lied to you and you had every right to yell at me.”

“Harry.” I said firmly. “You may have lied to me, but I have no control over you whatsoever. I had _no_ right to yell at you like that even if it was only because I cared about you. I made you _cry_ and made you _leave_ , _you_ have every right to _slap_ me, I promise.”

He squeezed me closer and let out a quiet sob. “Never, I could never. I love you so much.”

I felt the beginning of a smile touch my lips. It was the best thing in the world to hear those words leave his lips, especially after all that’s happened.

“I love you too.” I whispered, then began hesitantly. “Does-does this mean you’re coming back?”

“Are you kidding? Of fucking course, babe. I’m never leaving again.” He almost snapped and I nearly laughed because Harry _never_ swore.

“Really?” I said quietly, unable to believe it. I didn’t deserve him back _at all._

“Yes, Lou. I can hardly imagine how I even _survived_ three weeks away from you. Never again.” He whispered, cuddling into my neck. I let out a whimper of relief, resting my head on his chest.

“Good.” I whispered and suddenly felt _freezing_ now that all the former panic of losing him had left. Vigorous trembles left my body and I tried to curl further into Harry’s warmth, which proved difficult since I was already as close to him as I possibly could be.

“Oh my gosh, you must be freezing!” he suddenly gushed and shifted to reach behind him. I frowned a bit through my shivers as he did so, but clung to him. Harry returned with several sweaters which he immediately pulled over my head. Once three were successfully tugged on, I was much warmer.

“Harry, why on earth were you just carrying around three sweaters?” I questioned him, my voice hoarse from crying. Harry was silent for a moment before he answered.

“Zayn, uh, called me and said you ran off with no shoes or a jacket.” He mumbled sheepishly. My eyes widened.

“He-he had contact with you?” I asked him suspiciously.

“I-I’ve been staying at his place, actually.” He said ashamedly. I jerked up in his arms, anger filling me.

“He-he knew where you were and he didn’t tell me?! He knew I was an absolute wreck and he _didn’t tell you_?!” I exclaimed furiously. How could he do that to me?

“No! No! Don’t get mad at Zayn!” Harry abruptly begged, wrapping his arms back around me. “I told him not to tell you, and-and I guess he didn’t want me to know how bad you were doing.”

“He’s my best mate.” I mumbled, anger slowly dying down.

“He’s mine too, Lou. Although he was pretty mad that I didn’t want you to know. Practically had to beg him to get him to agree. I just… felt so bad for lying to you and I was scared, I guess.” He confessed, nuzzling back into my neck. I pressed gentle kisses to the skin there to try and both comfort him and apologize for doing that to him.

“My fault, baby.” I reminded him gently.

“Today I actually crumbled and told him I couldn’t take not seeing you anymore, but you ran off before he could get you there.” I frowned a little at his words.

“What are you talking about?” I asked him. He sighed.

“Today, Zayn and I made a plan to get you out of the house so I could meet you somewhere public, because I was a coward and didn’t want to go alone. I was confused because he said it might not be easy to get you out of the house, I had no idea you were so, well, upset. But he said he’d do it and I was so excited, yet stressed out at the thought of seeing you again. It was only about an hour later that Zayn called me saying you’d freaked out and ran out of the house without a jacket or shoes and I instantly just grabbed some jackets and ran from the house looking for your foot prints.” He rambled on and I felt guilt drop down into the pit of my stomach.

I screamed at Zayn for nothing. All he was trying to do was get me to see my Harry again and I’d completely flipped on him for it. I had pretty much a life time owed to him for all he’d done for me already, and now I’d basically shouted at him for trying to help me even more. I’d definitely have to apologize to him later, but right now, I could at least be grateful for my baby back.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot.” I groaned, leaning against him. “Guess I was just so caught up in being worried I became an utter dickhead.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “You can apologize back at the flat. We need to go back there so Zayn knows we haven’t both died and I can take care of you.”

“Whoa stop there, Curly. What’s this about taking care of _me?_ I need to take care of _you.”_ I scoffed.

“Louis, I don’t want to sound mean, but you _are_ an idiot if you think _I’m_ the one who needs taking care of right now. You’re practically skin and bone, I wouldn’t be able to take the stress of even seeing you _stand._ How in the hell did you manage to run all the way here without passing out?” he said fondly, running his fingers through my hair. I sighed at the feeling.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I said quietly. “But you’re my baby, I don’t know how I would stand having you take care of me.”

“Well you’ll just have to deal with it until you’re _healthy_ again. You may be older, but I’m taller, I win.” He giggled.

“Excuse me _Styles.”_ I teased him. “That is no way to talk to your elder.”

“Bite me.” He laughed, and I gently bit his neck to oblige. He squealed and buried his face in my neck. I poked him softly in the ribs.

“Well, fine, I guess.” I sighed. “Do what you have to do, love, you know I can’t resist your impeccable charm.”

Harry laughed lightly and gave my body a squeeze, suddenly standing up with me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck in surprise, feeling small in his large arms. But somewhere deep inside me enjoyed being, well, tiny, and I cuddled into his chest with a small smile. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of my head and walked down the narrow path, eventually coming out to the vacant park. I expected him to put me down then, since we were now in public, but he just kept walking without a care in the world.

The way back was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. I could tell we were both just basking in the fact that we had each other back, at least I knew I was. It was only when we got back to the flat that the silence was broken by a somewhat frantic Zayn.

“Har- oh Jesus Lou! He found you. You had me worried mate, you’re already sick and you went off and ran bare footed through the snow. I didn’t mean to upset-” Zayn began rambling and I quickly interrupted him.

“Stop, Zayn, I know, Harry told me and- baby can you put me down for a second?” I whispered to Harry who bit his lip before nodded and setting me down. He instantly reached for my hand though, and I gladly complied.

“I’m really sorry for flipping on you. I was just tired, and worried, and yeah, not gonna lie, pretty sick. I know you were just trying to be a good mate and trust me, you were. I owe you big time, Malik, I’d be an utter mess without your help.” I told him earnestly, giving him a toothy smile. He smiled back and patted my shoulder.

“No problem, bro. Although, now that everything seems to be sorted between you too, I think I’ll go home. But text me, yeah? And for god’s sake eat something, Lou. You look like a ghost.”

“I know, I know.” I sighed, leaning back into Harry. He spoke up just as he was about to leave.

“Also, thank you for everything you’ve done for me too, Zayn. Sorry for being a bit… OCD.” He laughed a little. Zayn huffed playfully.

“At least I won’t have to worry about cleaning my ceiling for the next three years.” Both chuckled a bit, but I frowned in confusion. As he left, I questioned the gangly boy.

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “While you apparently didn’t do _anything_ while I was gone, I kinda went insane. I cleaned pretty much every surface of Zayn’s house and organized everything in it in the first week. And after that, I panicked and cleaned everything _more_ until Zayn had to physically rip the cleaning wipes from my hands.”

I reached up to stroke back his untamed curls. “I’m sorry, darling, that must not have been very fun.”

Harry shrugged and suddenly scooped me into his arms again. “Now I need to make you lunch. What would you like?”

I genuinely had no idea. But my stomach was suddenly raging for food, most definitely from not eating anything in the last three weeks. Now that I had Harry back, everything that was once numb was now sharper than ever, and consuming nothing but alcohol and water I knew now was a completely idiotic idea.

“Anything.” I practically moaned, my stomachs growls becoming very much so heard. Harry hurried me to the kitchen table where he gently set me in a chair, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll make something quick, because you must be _starving.”_ He hustled around the kitchen, taking out various food items that hadn’t gone bad during my neglectful actions.

“You’d better eat every last bite, or I’ll have to force it down your throat.” Harry teased, but I knew he was serious. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem, though, because even if I wasn’t quite literally starving while I waited, but I loved him more than anything I’d ever experience again, I knew that for certain. If it meant I would keep him happy, safe, and _here_ I’d do it because I couldn’t risk losing him again. I obviously knew everything wasn’t going to always go the way we expected, it might even not be in our favour a few times, but I was ready and willing to stand through the test of time to keep this love. And by the way he looked at me from then on, I was sure he was too, and so nothing could stop us now.


End file.
